Compitalia
by BaskervilleBeauty
Summary: Severus Snape's unexpected inheritance brings muchneeded assistance to the Order. Abandoned due to HBP details inside chapter 10.
1. Jeeves the House Elf

**Chapter 1**

_**Disclaimer for this and following chapters: the Wizarding World belongs to JK Rowling. I'm just on a playdate.**_

Severus Snape would probably not have responded to the loud _pop!_ had it not been for the throat-clearing that followed. House elves had come and gone from the dungeons all day, delivering and discarding. It being the last day of classes at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the potions master himself was engaged in clearing up the storerooms where he kept flasks and bottles for the students' assignments. Powders, preparations and pickled remains were meticulously itemized and lined in rows on the shelves. The students themselves, were thankfully, in their respective Houses, packing to go home for the winter holidays, leaving the castle and its professors in relative quiet. Professor Snape, however, did not have particularly ambitious plans for the break.

In more peaceful times, avoiding almost-certain death at the hands of a crazed magical overlord might have counted as ambitious; in these times, however, it was almost routine to him. The enchanted tattoo that was seared into his flesh burned black almost constantly now, and his arm shot with unbearable pain whenever Voldemort wished to see his faithful Death Eaters, himself included. For nearly two years he had been preoccupied with spying for the Order of the Phoenix, pretending that his position as a teacher at Hogwarts allowed him valuable access to both The-Boy-Who-Lived, and Dumbledore, enemies of Voldemort and his followers. When he was not shrouding his mind from the Dark Lord's Legilimency, he taught potions to hordes of ignorant students, preparing them for life in the real world beyond.

_It was his job to enlighten them_, he supposed. But their arrogance, born from youth and inexperience, as well as, quite often, stupidity, made it difficult for him to relish the assignment. And it was arrogant of him, or anyone else, to suppose that potions would save any one of them from Voldemort and his determination to overtake the Wizarding World in a reign of terror. _If it were as simple as that, well…_

A muffled cough came from behind him.

"What is it?" Snape snarled, turning around so quickly that a lock of his greasy black hair hit his sallow cheek and clung there. Before him was a house elf. It was not a Hogwarts house elf, however, or at least not any that Snape had ever seen in his years as student or professor at the school. This house elf was tall for his kind, and his head was not wide, as was usual, but long and narrow. His eyes were small and glassy, and every time he blinked, his ears gave a little twitch too, which gave him an oddly disconcerting appearance. On his feet were a pair of gaiters and his wrists held immaculately white starched cuffs, which somehow stayed on, despite his tiny frame. The house elf gave another little cough, bowed slightly, and in a voice much deeper than any of his Hogwarts counterparts, greeted Snape.

"Master Severus, Jeeves is pleased to accompany you back to Duslain."

At this pronouncement, Snape's eyes narrowed. "You're Grandmother's house elf?"

The creature gave another bow. "Jeeves had that position."

"Had?" repeated Severus sarcastically. "Has she dismissed you?"

The elf's face, previously set in an impassive expression, turned into a frown. "Madam Agrippina died this morning. It is Jeeves' duty to accompany the heir to his estate. Master Severus is the heir, and must return to Duslain with Jeeves."

His face set in an angry scowl, the newly-bereaved potions master strode past the waiting house-elf to the empty fireplace in his dungeon office, and flung a handful of powder into the grate. As the green flames shot up, he leaned into them.

"Albus," he called. "It seems I must leave immediately for a few days. Family business. It shouldn't take long."

Removing his head from the flames, Snape stood back up, brushing invisible dirt off his knees. He turned to Jeeves and his lip curled.

"So the old bat's finally snuffed it, eh? Well? What are you waiting for? I'm ready; let's go."

With a loud _Pop!_, the pair vanished.

_Author's Notes: It's nice to be back in the world of fanfiction! This story probably owes a lot to the hundreds of other HP stories I've read in the three years I've been following the genre, so thanks to all those whose stories I enjoyed so much, and apologies if I don't always remember where I'm stealing ideas from! _

_The story title is a Roman festival held in mid-January, whose significance will become clear shortly. Duslain is derived from the Scottish Gaelic word duslainn, which means a gloomy, retired place. That will become clear shortly as well. And as for Jeeves? Well, I thought he was cute. He popped into my head, so to speak. ;-)_


	2. Of Elves Owls and Assistance

**Chapter 2**

_Author's Notes: Thanks for pointing out my error, duj! I still hold that spats and cuffs aren't really clothing per se, but I was able to incorporate an explanation quite neatly into the narrative._

The house of his grandmother had a sickly sweet smell, like old age and decay. As Snape looked around for the officious house elf who had brought him here, his eyes registered the piles of bric-a-brac that cluttered every surface of the room in which he currently found himself. Sure enough, camouflaged slightly by a dangerous-looking plant in a brass pot in the corner, was Jeeves. Snape took several strides toward the creature, and grasped his spindly arm. The house elf's skin was leathery, and covered in a fine dusting of tiny hairs. Snape pointed at the immaculately starched cuff that covered Jeeves's wrist.

"What is the meaning of this?" he asked roughly. "Where did you get these?"

Snape felt a sudden sharp pain on his palm, as though he had been burned, and the house elf's wrist disappeared from his grasp. With a crack, Jeeves stood inches from where he had stood earlier, but his limbs were free.

"Jeeves received them as an inheritance from Master Severus's grandfather Septimus," he answered. His voice was steady, though his round eyes held something of a silent reproach.

Snape's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "And you are still in service?" he asked.

Jeeves's narrow head bobbed in answer. "Master Septimus was already dead when Jeeves received the clothing, sir. An inheritance is not a gift, sir."

"Indeed it is not," Snape grumbled, casting another glance around the room crowded with objects. "Is every room like this?" he inquired.

"No, sir. This is a sitting room, but there is a dining room, and rooms for sleeping, and a kitchen…"

Snape held up his hand to stop the house elf's list. "I meant, is every room this littered with junk?"

Jeeves's eyes widened in horror. "Oh, it is not junk, Master Severus! It is Madam Agrippina's, sir! Jeeves cannot touch it!"

"Why not?"

The house elf's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "It is too powerful, sir. House elf's magic does not work on Madam Agrippina's things."

Impatiently, Snape waved the house elf away. "You may go. Clean the fireplaces. I may want to Floo someone."

With a long and solemn bow, Jeeves scuttled off into the hallway, leaving the Potions master alone. Snape gathered his robes around him, and looked around for a place to sit. For a sitting room, there were few chairs, and some looked as though they might dissolve into a cloud of dust should anyone attempt to sit on them. He spotted an innocuous-looking chair in the corner, and sank into it. When he was certain that it was not emitting suspicious growls or moving independently, he relaxed a bit and examined the room closer.

The collection of oddities assembled just on the occasional tables trumped anything found at Grimmauld Place. Sirius Black's cursed residence was nothing compared to the Dark Magic collected by his grandmother.

It was strange, really. He had remembered his grandmother as an ineffectual, distant woman. She had never interested herself in her family, and never visited her son and his family, preferring retirement rather than acting as the matriarch of an old and once-powerful clan. Snape's father had often mocked her obsession with collecting knick-knacks. Snape had never suspected that she was collecting objects of great Dark power.

His thoughts were interrupted by the hooting and scratching of an owl at the window. Rising, Snape made his way to the window and allowed the bird inside. It perched on the high back of an armchair, which miraculously withstood the strain, and held out its claw, to which was attached a roll of parchment. Snape took the letter, and opened the window again. The owl hooted at him in frustration at not receiving a treat, but flew away.

Snape broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. He began to read.

__

Dear Professor Snape,

Messrs. Borgin and Burkes extend our deepest sympathies for the loss of your esteemed grandmother and matriarch of the Snape family. In the days following her funeral, you will no doubt seek to dispose of some of her possessions, and we would like to remind you that Borgin and Burkes specializes in magical items of considerable vintage. We offer excellent percentages on consigned items, and we buy high-quality items at competitive prices to offer to a select clientele in our store in Knockturn Alley. A representative of our firm will call at Duslain ----

Snape did not read any further and crumpled the letter in his fist. Stepping forward to the fireplace, he rifled among the items on the mantelpiece until he found what he was looking for. He opened the small clay jar and threw a handful of powder into the fireplace, calling out, "Hogwarts, Dumbledore's Office!"

Green flames shot up into the chimney, and Snape leaned into them.

"Albus, I'm afraid I will need your help."


	3. The Front Door

**Chapter Three**

_Author's Notes: Thanks to duj (Is "unusual" a good thing or a bad thing?), Oya (here you go!), Cecelle (you'll find out soon), Emma (I'm afraid that if the chapters were longer, you wouldn't get an update every week – sorry!), and Lindsay (wait till you see some of the things I have up my sleeve!)._

The Headmaster did not arrive by Floo Powder. By the time his solemn knock sounded at Duslain's front door, Snape had divested himself of his cloak and was engaged in hauling objects from the crowded sitting room into the vast great hall of his late grandmother's mansion. Most of Agrippina's possessions, he discovered, were completely impervious to magic, and no matter how many times he attempted to use 'Accio' or 'Wingardium Leviosa' spells, the objects remained stubbornly in place. Rolling the sleeves of his robes up over his thin, pale, and rather hairy wrists, Snape set about moving them by hand, always careful not to get bitten or burned by a cunning magical carving. The sweat of his exertions made the Potions master's face even greasier than before, and it was in this condition that Albus Dumbledore found him.

"What a remarkable house elf," he commented, glancing back at Jeeves' retreating figure.

"I can think of several hundred more colourful adjectives than that," Snape answered acidly, pausing beside the footstool he had just dragged into the great hall. Its legs twitched madly, as if it was planning an escape.

A shadow of a smile passed over the headmaster's face. "He has not been helping you, then?"

"No. He claims that his magic cannot affect these things. I have had little success in using magic myself," Snape answered, and as if to prove his point, gave a rather unnecessary shove to a life-sized marble statue of a woman he had earlier placed directly in the center of the hall.

"And this is why you need my help?" inquired Dumbledore, watching Snape and playing with the ends of his long gray beard. Snape flowed the headmaster's gaze around the hall, which now looked as though a gale had swept through several magical curiosity shops and deposited their contents there.

"Yes," Snape frowned. "You can hang your cloak anywhere. There seems as good as any," he nodded towards the marble figure, whose arms were stretched in front of her in a gesture that almost invited an embrace. "I expected you earlier, actually," Snape continued, the question implied in his tone.

"I have always felt that Apparition makes for a more dignified entrance than using Floo Powder," Dumbledore answered as he lifted the hem of his robes and skirted a dangerous-looking pillow cushion that lay on the stone floor. "Dumping oneself directly in someone's living room seems rather untidy compared with arriving by the front door, it is very inconvenient to fold and unfold oneself in the narrow chimneys of this country. For someone of my height and advanced age, it could be downright dangerous." Dumbledore folded his cloak gingerly over the statue's left arm and peered into her impassive face. "Poor Agrippina," he sighed. "A whole lifetime surrounded by mute artifacts…"

"It will take a lifetime to sort through them all," growled Snape, who re-entered the hall, his arms full of what looked like two dozen silver spoons. "I wonder if you know what any of this is, Albus? Maybe Hogwarts is in desperate need for one of these?" He held up a small crystal orb, inside which tiny gears whirred and buzzed.

Albus took it from him and mused, "Alastor Moody or Remus Lupin would be of more assistance to you in such matters than I, Severus. Even an Auror like Kingsley Shacklebolt or Nymphadora Tonks would be better able to determine the use of such an object."

"Perhaps you'll suggest I also enlist the help of Sybil Trelawney?" Snape asked viciously, his lip curling. "No, either these objects are used or destroyed, and you must help me decide which. I have already received a letter from Borgin and Burke, offering to take these things off my hands for what they called 'a very reasonable sum'. I don't know how they heard, or whether anyone else knows, but no doubt I am not the last to consider that my grandmother's little collection would serve the Dark Lord's purposes well."

"Yes, I see your point, Severus," said Dumbledore. "Although I do think that your distrust of Order members is unnecessary. May I suggest that some of us convene here over the holidays? Perhaps in helping you manage your grandmother's estate, we will come to some solution."

"That time should be used to prepare our defenses against the Dark Lord!" exclaimed Snape, whose glistening black eyes betrayed the fact that he was none too happy about allowing Order members into his home, even if he had only just inherited it.

"We may find something to assist our side," pointed out Dumbledore. "I, for one, will be grateful for anything that will give our side even the smallest advantage, or protect one of ours from harm." Having made this weighty pronouncement, Dumbledore clapped his hands together and exclaimed, "Some tea would, I think, give me just the sustenance I need to begin such an undertaking." His hopes for such a pleasure, however, were dispelled by a heavy knocking at the front door. The two men exchanged wary glances, and Dumbledore drew his wand. Waving it in the direction of the displaced sitting-room furniture, he uttered a Concealment charm, and promptly vanished himself as well.

Snape was beaten to the door by Jeeves, who appeared out of thin air, and with a strength that belied his tiny frame drew open the heavy oak door. In the entrance stood an expensively dressed, bored-looking blonde man with a silver-topped cane. Without a glance to the house-elf in front of him, Lucius Malfoy stepped inside and extended his right hand in an indolent greeting to Severus Snape.

"My most sincere condolences, Severus," he drawled. Looking over Snape's disheveled person, he added, "I see your grandmother's death has hit you hard."

"Yes, very," agreed Severus, frowning. "It could not have come at a worse time. The Dark Lord needs my services at Hogwarts, and I am forced to attend to trivialities here."

"A pity," nodded Lucius languidly, and cast his icy blue eyes around the hall. "My sources inform me, however, that you will have something to contribute to our efforts soon. Something in the form of a few choice artifacts from your grandmother's collection, perhaps?"

Snape rolled his shoulders back and looked Lucius straight in the eye. "Mssrs Borgin and Burke are not a reliable source of information," he said with conviction.

Lucius grimaced. "They want you to sell to them?" he asked.

Snape nodded. "Yes. I received a letter from them earlier today. But I'm afraid, old friend, that both they and you have been sorely misled as to believing that I have some vast collection of Dark Magical curiosities. In my time here, I have been convinced that the Darkest object in this house is the bloody house elf."

This comment received what passed as a genuine laugh with Lucius Malfoy. "It's so hard to find good help these days, isn't it? And the filthy creatures only breed more mediocrity!" The blonde man leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "Sometimes I think the Dark Lord should extend his crusade to wipe them out along with the Muggles." Leaning back, he shrugged a perfectly tailored shoulder. "But then, who would clean and cook so efficiently?"

Snape smiled wanly as Malfoy clapped him on the shoulder. "Hurry up and finish here. A family house is all well and good, especially one old as yours is, but it's too far to make polite house calls. We shall see you at the next meeting." Turning to leave, Lucius called over his shoulder, "And if the elf gives you trouble, give him a good kick. Works wonders for their morale."

When the front door had closed behind Lucius, the great hall shimmered and the charm dropped to once again reveal the chaotic assemblage of objects, and a smiling Albus Dumbledore. The headmaster advanced to Snape and clapped him on the back in an eerie echo of Malfoy's earlier gesture.

"Well done, Severus. Your social skills improve daily. Now, I should call the Order members before you receive any more condolence calls. May I use your fireplace?" At Snape's nod of assent, Dumbledore smiled again, and his eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "I'm so glad Mr Malfoy had the courtesy of knocking at the front door. It's so much more dignified."


	4. The Invasion

**Chapter Four**

**The Invasion**

_Author's Notes: Cecelle, of course, you are right. MS Word just doesn't pick up such things. Thanks to Jorjor, emma and Masked Phantom._

Severus Snape's already-thin lips curled into an expression of deepest disdain as sundry Order members stepped out of the fireplace into the great hall at regular intervals.

"Your face might freeze like that, you know," said Nymphadora Tonks cheerfully as she handed Snape her cloak. To his chagrin, her mood was not at all dampened by the fact that she had nearly cleft open her skull on the carved marble Gorgon's head in the centre of the mantlepiece as she arrived. Oblivious to his displeasure, Tonks practically skipped off toward Dumbledore and soon engaged the elderly headmaster in a conversation peppered on both sides with giggles and snorts. Snape, his mood blacker than the family from which the Metamorphmagus was descended, moved towards the centre of the room, where he hung Tonks' cloak on the marble statue along side those of the other guests.

Jeeves the house elf was occupied in preparing luncheon for the group, and as he was the lone domestic servant, it fell to Snape to gather the outer garments of his arrivals. The statue seemed to suit his purposes well – its outstretched arms practically cried out to be used as a coat rack. If such a space-consuming object were to remain in his possession, Snape mused, it might as well make itself useful. After all, its original purpose, like most of the trinkets in his late grandmother's collection, was not obvious.

At this moment, Jeeves the much-maligned house elf, appeared to announce that the luncheon repast awaited them in the dining room. Dumbledore, clapping his hands in satisfaction, led the way. How the Hogwarts headmaster knew where the dining room was located was a mystery even to Severus Snape. As he seated himself in one of the high-backed Gothic chairs around a heavy oak table, Snape looked around in satisfaction that he was at least spared the invasion of the Red-Headed League and their attendant idiots, Potter and Granger. Minerva McGonagall, who had somehow managed to seat herself beside him, must have notes his gaze, for she crisply remarked,

"The Weasleys won't be joining us, Severus. They're keeping Remus and Harry company in London this Christmas."

"It's a wonder you don't have other plans for the holidays," Snape replied under his breath to no one in particular.

"This is loads better than being at the Christmas party at the Ministry," exclaimed Tonks, whose turkey sandwich was dripping cranberry sauce into her lap. "The Minister is always having too much punch and making ridiculous speeches. And last year, Percy Weasley tried to kiss me under the mistletoe! That was a laugh… Oh, bugger!" she cried, noticing the stain on her robes.

"Scourgify!" Minerva sighed, pointing her wand across the table.

"Thanks!" smiled Tonks as she brushed her faded tangerine hair away from her face. Minerva blandly smiled back.

Dumbledore, sensing a break in the general conversation, stood up and cleared his throat slightly. "First, I mist thank Severus for being such a gracious host, in spite of his recent bereavement. The sandwiches were truly delicious." A smattering of half-hearted, but polite applause followed this somewhat facetious statement. The turkey sandwiches had actually been very dry. Dumbledore continued, "As you may have noticed, Duslain is filled with magicval objects, whose purposes are not immediately obvious. After consulting with me, Severus had decided that it would be prudent to examine these objects and to dispose of them appropriately, so that they do not fall into the wrong hands. It may be, that in the course of our investigation, we may stumble across something that may assist the work of the Order. If this should happen, we must take care not to damage the object or our limbs." Dumbledore paused for dramatic effect and waited for a giggle to acknowledge his pun. None was forthcoming, so he carried on. "We should break into groups and arrange the objects according to categories. If you are unsure as to the function of and object, leave it to another group.

"What will we do with the ones we don't need?" inquired Hestia Jones.

"Severus has already had some interest from Borgin and Burkes, but I think you will agree with me that one cannot be too careful in dealing with such an establishment," General murmurs of assent were heard among the group until Tonks piped up.

"What if we were to booby-trap some of them and give them to people like Malfoy?"

"A very intriguing suggestion, Miss Tonks," said Dumbledore, "but we may not have sufficient time and resources to carry it through."

"And most of it might be rubbish," opined Kingsley Shacklebolt in his deep bass.

"We can let Mundungus Fletcher get rid of it," suggested the ever-practical Minerva, who was of a similar opinion as Molly Weasley when it came to Dung's 'business dealings'.

Once the laughter that followed this subsided, Dumbledore brought the group to order once again. "That is a cunning plan, Minerva, quite worthy of a Slytherin. We must certainly give it further consideration. But now, I think it is time for us to commence our work."

Groups were assigned, and Snape found himself in the great hall with Tonks and Daedalus Diggle. Dumbledore, to no one's surprise, assigned himself the role of roving supervisor.

Tonks did not prove to be quite the liability Snape had expected. Her experience in the Black family home meant that she was familiar with some of the more exotic magical artifacts, such as a tray of poisonous butterflies from South America. Snape put that aside, hoping to investigate the function of the poison later in his potions research.

Hours later, when they had lined up useful items on one side of the great hall, harmless trinkets on the other, and inidentifiable objects down the middle, Dumbledore appeared, followed by the others. Clapping his hands, he conjured a circle of squashy armchairs and had Severus order tea and biscuits from Jeeves. Minerva served the tea, pouring it out of what was evidently an ancient, soot-blackened teapot into terracotta cups. Tonks, who finished her tea first, was the first to notice that the hot liquid had caused a rather rude image to appear at the bottom of the cup. Much amusement ensued as Order members exchanged teacups to see the various designs. Even Minerva McGonagall, who had at first blushed to the roots of her severely knotted hair, shared in the general hilarity. Once the images faded, the group grew silent and sated.

Hestia Jones was the first to speak again. "Did you find out what the statue is for, Severus?" she asked, nodding toward the sculpture which continued to stand in the middle of the hall.

"No," grimaced Snape, whose back began to stiffen from sitting in the plush, squat armchair for too long.

"I think she's rather beautiful," said Tonks dreamily, although what was so beautiful about a hunk of marble draped with half-a-dozen travelling cloaks, Snape was at a loss to understand.

"My grandmother would fuss about it all the time. She talked to it as if it was alive and could hear her," he snorted.

"Perhaps it could," mused Dumbledore. "The stone was warm when I occasioned to touch it earlier."

"There was a grimoire upstairs," said Minerva.

"Mayvbe the statue is a golem," breathed Emmeline Vance.

"Or maybe Aggripina Snape was a senile old witch who didn't know better than to talk to inanimate objects," snapped the Potions master. The vehemence of his reply meant that there was no more speculation, though members of the Order stole curious glances at the makeshift coat rack as the tea was cleared.


	5. Down to the Crossroads

**Chapter 5**

_Author's Notes: Thanks to duj, Oya, cecelle, Cyranothend, and Masked Phantom. You are about to find out about the statue…_

Though classes had been in session for over a fortnight, none of the students or staff were much interested in academics. A feeling of dread hung over the castle like fog. Tensions were rising and it was all the professors could do to stop students from attacking each other in the hallways. Lines of allegiance were being clearly drawn; Dumbledo re's speeches about unity in the face of danger no longer convinced anyone. War loomed imminent.

It was on a long, cold, mid-January evening that the Headmaster assembled some of his loyal professors in his circular office. It was a sign of the time s that the portraits were politely asked to leave. Arthur Weasley's head bobbed among the green flames in the fireplace.

"I'm sorry Albus, but everyone here at the Ministry in preparing for a final battle. The chances of reinforcements being sent to Hogwarts are, quite frankly, nil."

"But the children!" exclaimed Minerva McGonagall.

"I'm afraid that my ongoing struggles with the ministry has rather alienated Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The castle shall have to live up to its designation and withstand a siege once more." Dumbledore sighed, and moved to his Pensieve. Using his wand, he began to extract silvery threads of memory from his temple and transferring them into the stone bowl.

"The castle's defenses must be i mproved," said Snape, who had hitherto remained silent.

"The only man who knows the castle well enough is Argus Filch," McGonagall exclaimed.

"He's a Squib," answered Snape with derision in his voice.

"None of the Order members are avail able to supervise such a job," Arthur's head said. "Molly and I are busy with other assignments."

"No Arthur, your help will not be necessary," said Dumbledore, whose gaze was concentrated on a swirling cloud of images in his Pensieve. "I have another solution, though it may take some doing. Minerva, if you could fetch Hagrid for me, I would be grateful."

The stern Scottish woman swept out of the office immediately.

"Good night Arthur. Rest assured, we will defend ourselves." Dumbledore waved a single hand as Arthur's apparition disappeared and the green flames turned their usual colour. The Headmaster turned to Snape. "It seems that our time at Duslain this Christmas was not wasted as you had feared, Severus. Your grandmother's collecti on will prove useful after all, and not just in occupying Mundungus Fletcher in illegal activities."

Snape winced at this pronouncement. After the departure of the Order members he had ordered Jeeves to lock up the house and to forbid anyone from en tering. Snape had himself cast several powerful wards around the property that would cause some particularly nasty wounds to any intruder. He had hoped that Dung's final, smirking, departure with an armload of stone gargoyles would be the last he would have to hear about Agrippina Snape's artifacts. He was, as it seemed, wrong.

"I wonder if you could arrange to bring some artifacts from your grandmother's house here," Dumbledore continued, and sat at his desk, dipping a quill into some ink. "I will give you a list of the objects I had in mind. You may take one of the thestral carriages and transport them that way. It will not take you longer than a few hours," he finished.

Snape let out a weak protest. "Someone will have to patrol the hallways!" he objected.

Dumbledore smiled slightly. "I do not expect Voldemort's attack tonight Severus, and I assure you that there are other staff members who are more than capable of dealing with a few truant students." He handed Snape a roll of parchment and waved him toward the door. Snape reached for the handle, but the door swung open before him to reveal the gargantuan form of Rubeus Hagrid.

"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" the groundskeeper asked, somewhere between nervousness and pride.

"Yes, Hagrid. Please sit down," Dumbledore invited, and concluded with a curt nod to Snape. "Severus, I will expect you back by midnight." The Potions cast a final malicious glance at the oblivious Care of Magical Creatures teacher, and took his cue to leave.

Thestrals always unnerved Snape, reminiscent as they were of his activities as a Death Eater, but the trip to Duslain was nothing in comparison to the trip back to Hogwarts. Having rid himself of the obsequious house elf Jeeves, Snape was crammed into the back of the carriage with the supine marble sculpture that had so enthralled Nymphadora Tonks some weeks prior. The standing form could only fit diagonally, and Snape had to arrange his limbs around her immobile form. As the carriage turn ed abruptly, Snape grabbed one of her outstretched arms for support, but withdrew it suddenly; just as Dumbledore had testified, the white stone was warm.

The spectral carriage came to a halt outside the front doors of the castle. Waiting on the ste ps, his beard blown about slightly by the night breeze, was Albus Dumbledore. Beside him was the towering bulk of Hagrid, which dwarfed the tartan-clad Minerva McGonagall.

After Severus extracted himself from the carriage, he turned to attempt a sim ilar extraction of the marble figure. Dumbledore, however, came to stop him. Waving his hand, he guided the ghostly horses to move along. They walked, a strange procession, in total silence for some minutes in the moonlight. The thestrals walked until the y had reached an ancient crossroads, now little more than intersecting footpaths. Albus raised his hand to pause them, and gestured for Hagrid to extricate the marble figure.

With exceptional tenderness for a man of his size, Hagrid set the statue i n the centre of the crossroads. As Dumbledore had emptied the carriage of the other small items that he had requested, the thestrals were dismissed. Their dark forms echoed the black shadows cast by the trees on the snowy ground.

"I can't see what u se this is, Albus," Snape felt compelled to protest. "All my grandmother ever did with this statue was to leave it offerings!"

Dumbledore looked up from the book he held in his hands and fixed Snape with an uncanny stare. "And were they accepted?" h e asked quietly.

Surprised, Snape staggered. "Yes," he admitted.

Hagrid, evidently following instructions given to him earlier, was circling the statue with a large bag. From within it, he produced the most extraordinary garlands of flowers, w hich he gingerly draped over the marble. Reaching deep into the bottom of the sack, he took out handfuls of grain and breadcrumbs, which he sprinkled at its base. From the pockets of his moleskin coat, he drew tiny balls of yarn, and small cakes, all of which were placed gingerly at the feet of the figure.

Minerva McGonagall, for her part, had started a small fire at the base of the statue. Using a bronze ewer also brought from Duslain, she poured oil and wine on the flames, causing them to sputter, hiss, and rise ever higher. Solemnly, Hagrid stood at her side and sprinkled what looked like salt into the flames, which turned a rich orange colour. This having been done, they stood aside and looked expectantly at Dumbledore. The Headmaster consulted his book again, and extended it to Snape, saying,

"As she is an artifact of your family, you must recite the invocation."

Covering his head with a scarf in reverence for the act about to be performed, Snape watched as his colleagues took their places at the other three arms of the crossroads. Extending his wand over the ancient pages of the grimoire to provide illumination, Snape began to read. The spell was in Latin, a language Snape had never managed to fully master. As the unfamiliar sounds rolled off his tongue, he registered some of the meanings. The incantation called for protection and benediction from a domestic goddess. Just when the flames consumed the magical creatures, the flow of words came to an end. The four figures stood at the crossroads, their fire-lit shadows flickering on the snow. They waited for something to happen. Then, as a ray of moonlight pierced the smoke rising from the flames, the marble statue began to glow with a golden light. The light flared for a moment, and as their eyes adjusted to the change, the waiting wizards perceived movement.

Out from behind the marble, stepped a woman. She was clothed in a woolen cloak, and glowed golden. The woman brought her palms together in a gesture of blessing and nodded toward her audience.

"Greetings, friends," she said, though her voice was laced with a heavy accent. "What help do you require?"

It was all Snape could do to keep from screaming.

<


	6. Protect us From Evil

**Chapter 6**

_Author's Notes: Sorry for the long delay. I have been busy and unmotivated. No excuse, really. Thanks to Oya, cecelle, silverthreads, emma, duj, lillinfields, and bibliophile. _

Snape could not take his eyes away from the spectre's face. That face – pale, with deeply-set eyes and a hooked nose to rival his own – held no resemblance to its marble counterpart. Yet he was very familiar with it. He had seen it in his dreams and nightmares for years. Sometimes, he fancied that he had seen a glimpse of it in a crowd, but it would al ways disappear before he could be certain. That face had made his nights unbearable, even as his days at Hogwarts were. Its appearances had intensified when he had decided to join Voldemort. After every revel, initiation, and gathering, the visions of death, blood, and fear mingled with her visage. Always disapproving, it would hang in the air, burned into his retina, etched into his mind. He had not seen her in his sleep for nearly two decades, but the memories remained; and now he knew, as certainly as he had known anything – she was a scourge sent to persecute him even into his grave. Snape looked at the woman and barely resisted the urge to scream as she came closer.

She reached out her hand and stroked the air inches from his face, tracing the outline of his jaw. She cocked her head and smiled; the child inside Snape trembled.

"Severus," she purred. "I am so glad you have survived. Your grandmother would not have forgiven me had I failed to keep you alive."

Agrippina. This was all h er doing. She had sent this demon, this harpy from hell to haunt him.

"Madam," Dumbledore interrupted softly. The woman dropped her arm and turned to face the headmaster, who bowed low to her. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. We are again facing a stru ggle for survival."

"That is why you have summoned me?" she asked kindly, her tongue tripping slightly over the consonants.

"Yes," Albus bowed again.

"Albus…" she intoned, rolling the name around her mouth. "It is a Latin name," she conc luded, extending her hand toward the Headmaster. "And are you indeed a white wizard, Mr Dumbledore?"

"Step away from him," Snape hissed, his wrath getting the better of him.

Dumbledore raised a hand to silence the Potion's master's rage and an swered the spectre simply. "We are fighting a dark enemy and we need all the allies we can get. I run a school for magical children, and I fear that they will be victims of a coming violence. The staff will do their best to protect them, of course, but we need more resources."

"And that is why you have summoned me," she repeated, her mouth spreading into a slow grin. Suddenly, her smile fell. "This is not the same enemy as the last time? It is not Voldemort?"

Minerva McGonagoll, who had stood silent in the shadow of the marble statue, stepped forward to plead with Dumbledore. "Albus, what is the meaning of this? Who – or what – is this?"

The spectre turned around, fixing Minerva with her dark eyes. Almost automatically, she recited, "I a m the domestic spirit of the House of Snape. It is my duty to protect its children and hearth from harm. I was last invoked by Agrippina Snape to watch over her grandson Severus. He is the last of his line. After him, no one else may propitiate me."

"She is the last of the lares in Britain," added Dumbledore. "The Romans, from whom Severus is descended, had household gods, many of whom were ancestors."

The woman nodded vigorously. "I was one of the family," she said. "I do not remember my name. But they loved me and worshipped me, and I was happy to help them."

Hagrid rubbed his eyes in disbelief. "You're a Roman?" he said in awe.

"I am a Snape," the woman replied indignantly, the golden glow around her flaring a little.

"You are not a Snape," Severus said disdainfully, his lip curling. "You would do well to return to your statue. At least there, you would look pretty," he spat.

"Severus!" Dumbledore rebuked. "We need her help. I recognized what she was at once when I saw her at Duslain. She has powers that will help us to protect Hogwarts if Voldemort attacks."

"So it is Voldemort whom you resist!" the woman exclaimed. "I will help. I have seen him in the memories of Severus. He is a terrible villain," she cried.

"It will take more than a marble figurine fed by grain and bread crumbs to defeat Lord Voldemort," Snape snarled.

"You are quite correct, Severus. It will take the work of many to defeat the Dark Lord," said Dumbledore. "Our primary conc ern for now, however, is to secure our defenses and to prevent innocent deaths." He looked back at the apparition and fixed her with an inquiring look. "What can you do to help us secure the castle?"

Looking around, the spirit's glanc e was caught by a mound of rubble. Walking, or rather, gliding, over to it, she placed her hand on one of the stones and quickly withdrew it. "There is ancient magic here," she whispered in awe. Furrowing her brow slightly, she stared at the sto nes. Silence hung over the group, and when nothing appeared to be happening, Snape made to move. His motion was arrested by Dumbledore, who put a warning arm across his path. In that moment, the hairs on Snape's neck rose, and before his eyes, the pile of rocks, overgrown with lichen and moss, began to move. With slow, scraping sounds, the rubble rearranged itself, and slowly, a low retaining wall emerged. When the motion had stopped, the apparition folded her hands across her chest and looked back at the Hogwarts professors triumphantly. Her golden aura had faded to a barely perceptible glow.

Dumbledore shook his head, impressed. "I remember this feature from when I was a student. Such talents will be very useful in strengthening the magic of the castle."

"How many garden features do we need replaced?" sneered Snape, who refused to be impressed by the feat of wandless magic he had just witnessed.

Dumbldore nodded thoughtfully. "Of course, she will not be able to carry on indefinitely," he said quietly. "However, the Snape grimoire does not include a spell or potion that would enable such a prolonged period of activity. Perhaps you have some suggestions?" he inclined his head towards the goddess.

"I do not," she shook her head. "I do not know how to appear, just when to appear."

"Do you at least know what we should call you?" Snape growled.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I do not remember my name in life."

"Perhaps we should call you La ra," Dumbledore suggested, "after the domestic gods."

"Lara is a beautiful name," Minerva agreed.

"Beautiful," breathed Hagrid, who appeared to be referring more to the deity herself than to her new name.

"Let us go back to Hogwarts," proclaimed Dumbledore, "for there I think we may find another who might aid us in this question, and Miss Lara can assess the situation for herself." His tone did not brook argument, and the group gathered to go. They had been talking for so long, that the sacrificial fire had burned low, and sputtered finally with another splash from the bronze ewer. In the cool light of the January moon, Hagrid tucked the marble statue under his arm, and was about to start back to the castle, when Minerva raised an objection.

"Won't the students and staff find Miss Lara's appearance questionable?" she asked, running a critical eye over the younger woman. "We may be able to explain her sudden arrival somehow, but we must find her more suitable garb."

Surprised, Lara raised her hand and laid it on Minerva's shoulder. In a moment, she wore tartan robes and a pointed hat with a plaid ribbon round the crown. Hagrid snickered, and even Dumbledore coughed back a laugh. "This will not do?" she asked, and extended a hand to Snape, who instinctively stepped away from her before she could touch him.

"The spirit of the thing is correct," Albus began. "Perhaps if you chose different colours?" he suggested.

Lara thought a moment, and her garments shimmered into a charcoal grey. It was not as somber as Snape's black robes, but subdued enough to be presentable. Her golden glow had now dissipated entirely from around her person and settled into a flush of colour in her cheeks. Her audience thus satisfied, she took Dumbledore's arm and they began to walk the path back to the castle. The Headmaster extended his wand, illuminating the ground ahead. A stern Minerva followed, carrying the empty sack, and the few bronze implements, and Hagrid, laden with his marble burde n. Snape stalked after them with the grimoire, wrapping his cloak tighter around him in the winter night. He had lost the battle for the sake of the war.

/ 


	7. Laying Plans

**Chapter 7**

_Author's Notes: In response to Duj's question, here is the best defin ition I could find of both types of deities (from Pantheon dot org): _

_In Roman mythology, the Penates ("the inner ones") are the patron gods of the storeroom. Later they gradually changed into patron gods for the entire household. T heir cult is closely related to that of Vesta and the Lares . They were worshipped at the hearth and were given their part of the daily meals. _

_The Roman state had its own Penates, called Penates Publici. They were rescued by Aeneas from burn ing Troy and via Lavinium and Longa brought to Rome. Upon their arrival, the Penates were housed in the Temple of Vesta, on the Forum Romanum._

_The Lares: Roman guardian spirits of house and fields. The cult of the Lares is probably derived fr om the worshipping of the deceased master of the family. It was believed that he blessed the house and brought fertility to the fields. Just like the Penates , the Lares were worshipped in small sanctuaries or shrines, called Lararium, which could be foun d in every Roman house. They were placed in the atrium (the main room) or in the peristylium (a small open court) of the house. Here people sacrificed food to the Lares on holidays. In contrast to their malignant counterparts the Larvae (Lemures), the Lar es are beneficent and friendly spirits. _

_There were many different types of guardians. The most important are the Lares Familiares (guardians of the family), Lares Domestici (guardians of the house), Lares Patrii and Lares Privati. Other guar dians were the Lares Permarini (guardians of the sea), Lares Rurales (guardians of the land), Lares Compitales (guardians of crossroads), Lares Viales (guardians of travelers) and Lares Praestitis (guardians of the state). The Lares are usually depicted a s dancing youths, with a horn cup in one hand and a bowl in the other. As progenitors of the family, they were accompanied by symbolic phallic serpents. _

_Thank you to silverthreads, Oya, saiyanwizardgirl and mirthless laugh. I am very flatter ed by your continuing patronage._

A terrible animal howl pierced the night sky; even the shadows of the trees seemed to shudder in revulsion. Instinctively, the little band snaking their way through the woods gathered closer together. Emerging fr om the forest, they solemnly and silently climbed the bare hillside that led to Hogwarts. The two wizards, the witch, and the half-giant, their faces fixed ahead, formed a circle around the woman in their midst as they approached the castle, to obscure her from view.

The group climbed the stairs of the front entrance to the castle, and the heavy doors opened before them. As the moonlight spilled into the hall, it illuminated the figure of a centaur – half-man, half-horse – who stood there, his arms crossed, tail swaying slightly to and fro.

"I have watched for you," the centaur intoned. "You bring a great power into the castle. Let me see her."

Dumbledore and Snape, who had led the group, parted, and allowed the woman to emerge.

&q uot;A centaur," she breathed. Blinking slightly at the sight of the being in front of her, she suddenly gathered her robes around her and bowed low. Keeping her head low, she bent her knees until she knelt on the stone floor of the Hogwarts hall.

Firenze nodded, and slowly walked up to her. Extending his hand to touch her chin, he bade her to rise. "What do they call you?" he asked.

"They call me Lara," the woman answered, now looking directly at the centaur.

"I am Firenze. I saw in the stars that you would come." He frowned and fixed Lara with a stern gaze. "Though you have great power, it will not help these humans in the way they hope."

Lara bowed again, slightly. "It is my duty to try," she said quietly. Turning back to fa ce those who had invoked her, she spread her arms in mimicry of the gesture of her marble statue, and asked, "What help do you hope to receive?"

Before anyone could answer her, a loud clanging sounded from the upper levels of the castle, followed shortly by the sight of a spirit careening wildly down the balustrade of the great stairs. It wore bells on its head and toes, and made a mad clanging as it moved.

"Oooh, a visitor!" the spirit shrieked. "Peevesy loves a visitor!" Swooping down until he was nearly face-to-face with Lara, he squealed "And a lady visitor! But such a big nose the lady has! Almost like the potions master!" He brought his hand up to his face and put his thumb to the tip of his nose, spread the fingers and wiggled them, lau ghing wildly.

"Peeves!" exclaimed Minerva McGonagoll, stepping forward to admonish the poltergeist. "Do be quiet! It is the middle of the night and you will wake the students!"

Instead of quieting, the spirit did a backflip in the air and cack led. "Peeves caught the students out after curfew! They should be punished, yes they should…" His eyes gleamed and darted around the hall in search of something with which to cause more mischief. McGonagoll shook her head in frustration.

Calmly, Lar a raised her arm up into the air with the palm out facing the poltergeist. "Go away," she said evenly, and with a sudden rush of energy that rippled the air, Peeves was sent flying upwards, through the ceiling to the floors above. They all stood still for a moment, waiting to see if he would reappear. To the surprise of the Hogwarts staff, he did not.

Dumbledore was the first to speak. "In light of this disturbance, I suggest that we move to my office to discuss things further. Firenze, you are most welcome to join us. Your advice will be welcome."

The centaur shook his head. "I must return to the Astronomy Tower. I have wasted enough of the night already. Mars is bright and the moon will soon set. You," he addressed Lara, "must not assume your invincibility. You still depend on the humans." Lara bowed again in acknowledgement, and the centaur cantered off.

Their way lit by torchlight, the group made their way to Dumbledore's office. The headmaster seated himself behind his desk, but it was still uncomfortably cramped, and Snape's back was pressed painfully against the corner of the stone fireplace surround. Hagrid, still carrying the marble figurine, awkwardly tried to stand it up, and ended in a sort of embrace with it, as the statue's marble arms enfolded his waist. Minerva stood in a corner free of bookshelves and nodded for Lara to sit in the only chair. On his perch, Fawkes cooed softly, and flapped his wings several times.

"Yes, Fawkes, what shall we do?" asked Albus, steepl ing his fingers in front of him. Snape had always found the headmaster's habit of conversing with the phoenix unnerving, and this instance was no different. The two seemed linked, even when the old wizard was using the conversation to ask rhetorical quest ions that the bird could not possibly understand.

"No doubt you have one or two ideas, headmaster" Snape remarked silkily.

Albus looked over his half-moon spectacles, first at the potions master, and then at Lara. "I admit, I have considered a few options. Miss Lara, what is your particular area of expertise? What is it that you are usually called upon to do?"

_To torment me like a guilty conscience_, thought Snape.

"I have always been asked to take care of the children of the family, to protect them and keep them from harm," answered the deity. "After my mother died, my father took another wife, and they had children of their own. They had two sons, fine young boys they were. I was some years older, and I looked after them.

'My father's slaves were careless, and one day, a fire started in the kitchen. The boys were playing in the storeroom and I ran to save them. They ran, and so did I, but my dress caught fire, and so numerous were my wounds and so deep my burns, that I thought I would perish.

'My stepmother was a powerful witch, and she stayed by my side in my illness. She said she would grant me eternal life so long as I would do her bidding. I agreed, and she placed my essence into a statue. Through prayer and propitiation, my spirit could be awakened and I would come to her aid if she needed me to protect her children again. The women of the household have done the same ever since."

"And would you be willing to do the same for the children of this schoo l?" asked Dumbledore as Fawkes flew over his head and perched on one of the arms of the marble statue.

"Yes," answered Lara slowly. "But what could I do that you cannot? There is powerful magic in this place already."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "We will, of course, do what we can. It is my earnest hope that Voldemort will not attack the school, or at least not without enough warning that we may evacuate the students." He looked over at Snape. "Should my hopes be in vain, however, the teachers, as adults, will be called to action. Someone will have to stay with the children and keep them from harm in whatever way possible. You have already shown that you hold power over some elemental forces; perhaps you have other methods that we do not possess." Dumbledore spread his hands. "If you are to do this, you will need to win the students' trust."

"How, Albus?" objected Minerva. "You can't simply introduce her to them at breakfast!"

Dumbledore smiled. "I can introduce her at din ner, if you feel that would be more appropriate, Minerva. And if I also tell them that she will be fulfilling some useful function –"

"What useful function?" Snape queried. "We already have house elves, a groundskeeper, a caretaker, and, unless I am very much mistaken, we have enough faculty to staff the classes. What necessity have we overlooked?"

Dumbledore sighed. "I have often said that this castle holds many mysteries and there are rooms and objects unknown even to me. It would take an en tire mortal lifetime to divine all the magic in Hogwarts; magic, it must be said, that might come in very useful in a battle with Voldemort. If Miss Lara agrees, we might give her gainful employment in preparing the castle for an attack."

"But she d oesn't even have a wand!" hissed Snape.

Albus' eyes twinkled in that infuriating way. "My dear boy, in her centuries of existence, Miss Lara has not yet had need of a wand to work her magic."

There did not seem to be anything else anyone could say. The knowledge that a battle was imminent hung heavy over the Order members day and night, even heavier for those at Hogwarts who saw Harry Potter daily. If the salvation of the wizarding world lay in the hands of a boy barely of age, then surely an ancient deity was a reasonable backup plan.

"Minerva, could you show Miss Lara to the guest quarters?" Dumbledore directed. "Rubeus, I am sure she would be grateful to have her effigy by her as well." As the half giant made to leave, Fawkes flew bac k to his perch, his iridescent wingtip touching Lara's cheek as she stood up. Snape was about to leave too, when Albus motioned him over. "You will rid yourself of the evening's events as always?" the older wizard asked him.

Snape sneered, "If there is room in my Pensieve for yet more of our futile little plots."

Albus sighed and his features showed all the worries of his age. "I am determined to believe that our plans are not futile. I need to believe that our side will emerge victorious over Tom Riddle, even if you do not. Goodnight, Severus."

Parting from the headmaster, Snape made his way to his quarters. Mercifully, there were no students in his path to the dungeons. As he drew the silver threads of the preceding hours from his temple into the stone basin, he felt slight relief. It was a relief that he could ill-afford, but one which he could not deny himself.

_A/N: I am taking the notion of a pensieve literally, and assuming that once the memories are out of your head, you no longer recollect them clearly. This would be helpful for Snape in the face of Voldemort's Legilimency._

> 


	8. Introductions

**Chapter 8**

_Author's Notes: I have heavily revised chapters 5 through 7; the changes may not appear to be major, but I was dissatisfied with my portrayal, and that was keeping me from moving further with this story. I'm still not convinced it's going anywhere, but we will take it one day at a time. Hopefully I will finish this thing before HBP comes out, as I am certain it will be incompatible with that. Thanks to saiyanwizardgurl, duj, Oya, LinZE, Elistar, and Mucada for reviewing. Sorry about the length of this instalment; I guess it's kind of short..._

Dumbledore did not like to make announcements at breakfast, particularly not at the first breakfast of the new term. The students were preoccupied in catching up with their friends, sharing news of their holiday adventures. The upper years were sleepy, their teenaged bodies being ill-prepared to awaken in the early hours of a winter morning. There were other distractions, too -- post owls flying in and out of the Great Hall, and catastrophes over forgotten or mislaid luggage. So he hoped, as he presided over the Staff table, that the students would be too busy to notice the new addition to the staff until he could properly introduce her at dinner. Since the disillusionment charm that Filius Flitwick had tried to cast had failed, she was placed strategically between Hagrid and Snape. Her stature would seem diminutive beside the former, and most students would try to avoid the gaze of the latter, so that Miss Lara Larentia (as it had been decided she would be called), would be entirely overlooked by the majority of students.

One student who did notice, however, was one Miss Hermione Granger. Seated at the Gryffindor table between her two friends, Ron Weasley, and Harry Potter, the sharp-eyed young witch spotted the new arrival at once.

"We have a new teacher," she commented as she reached for a glass of pumpkin juice.

"What? Where?" asked Ron, between mouthfuls of porridge.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione nodded toward the head table. "Up there, Ronald. Beside Professor Snape."

"What's she doing sitting by that greasy git?" Ron narrowed his eyes suspiciously. No one associated with the Head of Slytherin House, even through physical proximity, was trustworthy.

Hermione sighed and launched yet again into a lecture with which all three friends were familiar. In a low voice, so that no one else would hear, but somehow managing to sound confidently knowledgeable, she hissed at Ron, "For the last time, Ron, Professor Snape is a Potions master, and not a greasy git..."

Taking advantage of his friends' distraction in what promised to be a long discussion, Harry, who had learned through bitter experience to avoid looking at Professor Snape, stole a look at the new addition. She was engaged in amicable conversation with Hagrid, something which earned her regular looks of loathing from the Potions master. But Harry's keen eyes caught something else in Snape's glance which he did not expect -- fear. As the teachers began to disperse in anticipation of morning classes, Harry filed that information away in his mind.

Hermione, too, had evidently finished disciplining Ron, because when Harry looked back, she was preparing to leave the table. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"I'm going to ask Professor Dumbledore about that woman," she replied, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

"He'll probably introduce her at dinner," Harry pointed out, but Hermione's receding form only shrugged in response.

"It's no use talking to her," called Ron as he returned to his porridge. Swallowing the now-congealed contents of his spoon, he grimaced. "She has no right, keeping me from my breakfast like that! I need energy to face the new term, I do! A whole term of essays and exams and..." As his friend went on, Harry thought about all the other things they would need strength for.

When they saw Hermione again in History of Magic class, they asked what she had found out about the new teacher. Hermione shook her head. "Nothing," she said. "I tried to get Dumbledore's attention, but then Professor McGonagoll wanted to talk to me about tutoring the first years. Of course, I couldn't refuse. I might try again during lunch hour."

"What, and forfeit your time at the library?" teased Ron.

"As long as we don't have anything assigned to us for homework, and you two don't have to go to an emergency Quidditch practice, I think we can spare the time," Hermione said sensibly.

In fact, once lunch hour came, they didn't have to disturb the headmaster. As they walked down one of the third-floor galleries, they spotted a ladder, the top of which rested almost at the intricately carved points which supported the arched ceiling. Perched sideways on one of the upper rungs, her robes draped behind her, was the mysterious new staff member. Although she was conversing with a portrait of Andros the Invincible, she could not fail to notice the trio standing at the foot of her ladder, and saying her goodbyes to the portrait, clambered down to meet them.

Believing a direct approach to be the best one, Hermione held out her hand and introduced herself. Returning the handshake with a slight squeeze, the woman smiled and turned to Hermione's friends. "This must be Mr Weasley and Mr Potter," she said as she shook hands with them, and Harry was relieved that her eyes did not immediately wander to his forehead. "The Headmaster warned me that I might encounter you three before the proper introductions. I am Lara Larentia. I am staying at the castle to complete some research."

"Research?" Hermione could not hide her interest. "On the paintings?"

"The portraits, yes..." Lara began to reply, but was interrupted by Hermione.

"I heard a lecture last year by a Muggle historian who said you could learn all sorts of things from a painting. I suppose a magical painting would be even more informative, seeing as it could communicate with you. Why think of the Fat Lady, or Phineas Nigellus! Do you remember, Harry, that painting at Gr --" she broke off suddenly and blushed. Her enthusiasm had nearly let out the secret Order meeting place.

"Ah, I see you have found Miss Larentia for me," came a voice from behind the trio. Turning in surprise, they saw Dumbledore, whose eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "I was just hoping to have a talk with her about the research she will be doing in the castle. If you will excuse us?" Hermione, Ron, and Harry were forced to part to make was for Lara, who took Dumbledore's arm and walked up the hallway disappeared behind a stone gargoyle.

Fawkes made a soft cooing noise as they entered the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore gestured for Lara to sit, and the phoenix came to nestle in her lap. Stroking the bird gently with her left hand, Lara gratefully accepted the offer of a lemon drop with her right.

"Have you learned anything fruitful from the portraits?" inquired Dumbledore.

"Only that there is much I do not know about this place," Lara smiled shyly.

The aged wizard leaned back in his chair and nodded. "The castle holds many secrets, of that we may be sure. I hope that you will be able to tease them out in the process of your work. I have been here longer than I care to admit, but the building still surprises me." Dumbledore paused and reached for another sweet from the bowl on his desk. "I believe Mister Potter, whom you just now had the pleasure of meeting, is currently in the possession of a remarkable map that outlines many of Hogwarts' hidden passages. Perhaps you could ask to use it."

Lara shook her head. "Right now," she said, "I only need to know how to get to the deepest dungeons. I think we must start from the foundations. The building will tell me where to go after that."

The Headmaster rose from his seat and smoothed the front of his robes. "We can go right now, if you wish," he said.

Nodding, Lara gently moved Fawkes, who blinked with indignation, back to his perch. She followed Dumbledore out of his office and down a wide stone staircase into the bowels of the ancient castle. As they descended, Dumbledore commented, "This is one of the few staircases that does not move. It was built before the Switching Charm was invented. I myself am grateful for it. I often have the misfortune of trying to climb a staircase when it decides to move. It's most inconvenient, for one thing, and I find I am more prone to motion sickness as I age."

The smell of cold and damp enveloped them as they reached the lowest levels of the castle. In these corridors, lit every few feet by dim torchlight, their footsteps echoed eerily down the long passageways. The floor was rough and uneven, made of the raw primeval stone that lay underneath all of Scotland.

Lara stopped suddenly in her tracks and crouched down, touching the floor with her hand. Her eyes eager and wide, as though she was hunting a small animal, she first got on her hands and knees, and then lay flat on the stone, her ear to the ground. Astonished, the Headmaster watched this performance from a narrow niche to which he had retreated.

Lara lifted her head, but continued to lie flat on the floor. She closed her eyes, and the air that had seemed so stale moments earlier began to move. Dumbledore's ears were filled with a low hum, the source of which he could not determine, and suddenly, all around him, the walls seemed to shift. A slight shudder, nearly imperceptible, ran through the building once. As quickly as it had begun, everything subsided, and the air in the dungeons was once again cold and lifeless.

Lara got to her feet, slowly. Her face was pale, and her hands trembled slightly. Dumbledore escorted her back to her rooms and ordered her to rest. As he made his way back to his office, however, he could not help but notice that the walls seemed straighter, the mortar between the bricks less cracked, and the glass windows were brighter and cleaner than they had been that morning.

By the time the students and staff gathered in the Great Hall for dinner, most knew about the researcher who had joined their little community without waiting for any official announcement. Dumbledore could not have planned it better himself. Perhaps he had -- even he could not be sure sometimes.


	9. Meetings

**Chapter Nine**

_Author's Notes: Thank you Silverthreads, Oya, sayanwizardgurl, duj (love the snarkiness), and Lindsay (feel better!). I am so grateful that you guys have come back to read this pathetically drawn-out work in progress and are still giving me votes of confidence. I decided that chapter eight was too short (number one) and that I had nowhere else to fit in what I wanted to fit in (number two) so I revised the last bit of it and added about a page. And now, chapter nine, which is super-long, and in which the secondary character finally makes his first appearance:_

Severus Snape brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen across his cheek and resumed stirring his steaming cauldron. _Clockwise one... two...__ three... Counter-clockwise one... two... three... Add a pinch of Salvia officianalis, stir again clockwise one... two... three..._

He could hear rustling and footsteps out in the stone corridor. Soon (much too soon for his liking) the noises stopped outside his office, and an insistent knocking sounded. Sighing a sigh of the man resigned to his inevitable fate, Snape cast a Suspendus charm on his potion-in-progress, and drawing his robes tighter across his chest, strode toward the door. On the other side of the threshold, just as he had anticipated, were Dumbledore and Miss Larentia.

"Severus, are we disturbing you?" inquired Dumbledore. He had, Severus reflected, an appalling ability to ask exactly the question one didn't want to answer. It wasn't as if he wasn't expecting them; the headmaster and the goddess had honoured him with visits nearly every night this week, but he could not truthfully say that he wasn't being disturbed. Pulling his lips into a grimace that if one squinted just right and cocked one's head to the side, could have been called a smile, Snape answered,

"No. I was just finishing brewing. Come in." He stepped aside to allow them to enter. Dumbledore swept through, Miss Larentia following him closely.

"Leave the door, Severus. Hagrid will be joining us shortly," Dumbledore said.

This was too much. It was not enough that his chambers had been invaded every night; it was not enough that he was consistently asked to perform ridiculous Roman rituals to a mute marble statue; it was not enough that at every turn he had to see Lara being useful; now, that brute of a gamekeeper was going to join this farce they called a resistance? Turning sharply on his heel, so that his hair once again flew across his cheek, Snape glared at his two nocturnal visitors. "What for?" he asked, his voice dropping to a dangerously low register.

Ever implacable, Dumbledore took a seat in a high-backed chair by the wall and folded his hands in his lap. "As you may have noticed, the traditional offerings have not been sufficient to keep Miss Larentia's magic functioning. We have been here, "Dumbledore nodded towards a darkened niche in the back of Severus' laboratory that now housed the marble statue in a makeshift shrine, "every night this week, but Lara informs me that her magic keeps failing."

The goddess nodded. "It was fine when I was just fixing the foundations," she said. "But now I have to keep track of complex spells that compound one on top of another, and add to them sometimes." She spread her hands in desperation. "I just can't keep it up. I have tried enlisting the houselves to help, but it is even harder to constantly give them instructions."

"I wondered if we could try a larger sacrifice this time," Dumbledore mused.

"A bushel of wheat?" Snape facetiously asked.

"A small animal, perhaps. Certainly, the ancients did sacrifice farm animals to their gods. We could extend that principle to this instance, could we not?" Snape rather thought that Dumbledore was asking one of his impossible questions again. "And then it occurred to me," Dumbledore continued, "that we could use a magical animal. Perhaps its powers would transfer to Miss Larentia's efforts."

"It's nothing but vampirism!" exclaimed Snape.

"Alas, even after all these centuries, we still do not know enough about the nature of magic," sighed the headmaster. "Perhaps magic truly does lie in the blood, as Voldemort contends." He slapped his knees lightly, emphasising his resolve. "Still, we lose nothing in trying."

Snape did not have time to consider the full ramifications of that last bit of philosophy, for just then, Rubeus Hagrid entered the dungeon laboratory. Ducking his head and shrugging his shoulders to fit his massive form into the doorframe, Hagrid stood, uncomfortably toying with the fraying hem of his moleskin coat. He was making strange sounds, which Snape was eventually able to identify as sniffles.

Dumbledore rose from his seat and walked toward the niche, lighting a torch above the statue. "Have you the puffskeins, Hagrid?" he asked gently.

The giant's eyes welled up suddenly and he looked from the headmaster to Snape to Lara with a look of utter devastation. "Do we have to do this, sir?" he asked Dumbledore in a soft pleading voice, much as a child might when asked to leave a beloved possession.

The headmaster walked over to the giant and placed a reassuring but firm hand on his left arm. "We must try, Hagrid, if we are to ensure the safety of this castle and its inhabitants."

The words must have somewhat reassured him, for the giant wiped his nose noisily on the sleeve of his shaggy coat and straightened his dropping shoulders. From his right shoulder, he took a furry lump that Snape had previously thought to have been a breast pocket of sorts. In actual fact, it was the bodies of two small puffskeins, tied by their tails and hanging sadly from a frayed rope. Snape rapidly looked away and shuffled the parchments on his desk.

"Let's begin," called Dumbledore and, in an action that had become all-too familiar, handed the potions master the ancient grimoire.

Wwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

For the third time that evening, Dumbledore had to call the meeting to order. The atmosphere around the Grimmauld Place kitchen table had degenerated after Arthur's report on Ministry business. "Although the latest developments are indeed disappointing, we must stay focused," he said, waving his hands in the air for silence. "I am glad at least to report that Hogwarts is safer than ever. The structure is entirely sound, perhaps more so than it was when the Founders themselves built it. We continue our efforts to find and fix faulty spells, but I am confident that the job will be complete in the next few weeks. Severus, do you have a report for us?"

Two dozen expectant faces turned to the taciturn Potions master. "As you know, Lord Voldemort has resumed his search for immortality," he began.

"He's not our Lord," Harry Potter said sullenly. "At least not yet."

"And Professor Snape is trying to prevent that from occurring, as are we all," Dumbledore gently reminded the assembly, before the conversation could again turn to matters personal.

"Indeed," frowned Snape. "I have been enlisted, of course, to contribute. I reminded the Dark Lord that if it had been possible to discover the secret of eternal life, it would likely have been already done. But he was most… insistent. I then reminded him that if I were to work on any such potion at Hogwarts, I would be likely to risk the headmaster or, worse yet, Potter, getting at it." Snape twisted his lips into an ugly smile. "That consideration seemed to temper his enthusiasm somewhat."

"But you are still working on the potion?" inquired Remus Lupin.

"Between my teaching, brewing healing potions for Poppy Pomfrey and certain other… _invalids_, as well as other _unavoidable_ duties," --here he shot meaningfully resentful looks at both Lupin and Dumbledore—"you can rest assured I am devoting _all_ my energy to it."

"I'm glad to hear you've turned your talent for poisons to finding antidotes, Severus," smiled Lupin, so sweetly that Snape barely resisted the urge to punch him. The discussion shifted to other topics, but Snape was no longer listening.

As though the werewolf hadn't been the cause of enough trouble, he held up Dumbledore just as he and Snape were about to return to Hogwarts after the order meeting. "I wonder if I could speak to you, Albus?" he muttered in that raspy voice.

"Certainly, Remus," Dumbledore smiled graciously. Snape rolled his eyes and withdrew to a polite distance that still allowed him to overhear the conversation.

"It's the portrait, Albus…"

"Mrs. Black? I'm afraid we can't do anything about that one, and not for lack of trying –"

"No, no, not Mrs. Black. Sirius!" Remus whispered urgently, glancing around to make sure Harry Potter was out of earshot.

"Sirius?" repeated Dumbledore.

"Yes. It started with a picture frame. It appeared out of nowhere about a year ago, after… you know… I didn't really give it much thought, honestly. I thought someone must have hung it there as a joke. But then a few months later, it started to knit together a canvas inside a frame. And then, on the canvas, I started seeing things. Shadows at first, but then some colour appeared." Remus ran a hand through his greying hair. "It's Sirius, Professor. He's in the frame."

"He's not making a nuisance of himself, is he?" asked the headmaster, his eyes twinkling behind his spectacles.

Remus smiled. "Not more than usual. And I know it's not really him, I do. But it's Harry I'm worried about. If he sees the portrait, it'll be there, taunting him. I'm afraid that he'll waste way in front of it, trying to recapture the old days with his godfather. There were so few of them…"

"Harry is a strong young man who has proven himself in the face of exceptional adversity, Remus," said Dumbledore. "We must not underestimate him. Perhaps it is a blessing that he will have this portrait of Sirius to remember his godfather by, just as he has photographs to remind him of his parents. An image is a powerful thing."

Lupin's shoulders slumped a little, even more than they already were. "I was just worried, that's all. I wondered if we could move it."

"I understand your intentions perfectly, my boy," Dumbledore reassured the werewolf. "We could, if you like, move the painting temporarily. I have long considered that this house needs to be cleared out a bit. Oh, Molly and her brood have done much to improve it, but I think I know someone who may be able to restore this place even more."

Snape emerged from the shadows in the corridor. "We must return, Headmaster," he said silkily.

"Of course, Severus." Dumbledore patted Remus on the arm gently. "Don't worry, we'll sort it all out. These are dark times, but we must keep an eye on the future to keep our hopes up."

Dumbledore did not dismiss Snape for the night, as was his usual custom after an Order meeting. Not even protestations of hallway monitoring duty could dissuade the old man from immediately going to find Miss Larentia and telling her that she could look forward to redecorating yet another decrepit magical dwelling. Since she was not to be found in either Snape's quarters, nor her own, the two wizards made their way to the ground floor corridor on the opposite side of the entrance hall from the Great Hall to classroom 11.

Lara had taken to meeting the centaur divination teacher in Firenze's classroom, and this night was no exception. The two had laid out a midnight picnic in the middle of the simulated forest space. The moonlight filtered through the trees and dappled the blanket on which Lara sat. The centaur, meanwhile, was playing the Pan pipes, while Lara sang songs of her childhood. The chirp of crickets mingled with the music and the hootimg of owls. It was a magical scene, but Snape was in no mood for Miss Larentia's magic. Striding forward, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her up.

"Time to go," he snarled. "Order business." He turned to go but was faced with the towering form of the centaur, who reared up suddenly on his hind legs, his chest gleaming in the white light of the moon.

"Release her," the half-man, half-horse demanded. Startled, Snape complied and did not argue as the centaur followed them down to the dungeons.

Back in his private laboratory, Snape sat behind his desk, piled with towering stacks of curling parchments. Lara perched on a stool by the cauldrons, and Albus paced the floor. Firenze chose a spot as far away as possible from Snape's collection of specimens preserved in jars of formaldehyde.

"Miss Larentia, how close are you to completing your survey of Hogwarts?" asked Dumbledore.

Lara shrugged. "Not more than two weeks, I should think."

"Very well. And how soon do you think Voldemort will make his move on the school, Severus?"

It was Snape's turn to shrug. "He has the Death Eaters preoccupied with other attacks for the time being, but he might change the tactic at any moment. He certainly doesn't like to share his strategy with anyone."

"Mars grows ever brighter," Firenze commented.

"Indeed," acknowledged Dumbledore. "We must prepare all our defenses. Miss Larentia, I wonder if you would consider transferring your talents to another of our buildings?"

Before she could answer, Snape was up and pacing himself. "I must protest, headmaster," he interrupted. "My objections to Miss Larentia's efforts were ignored last time, so I have no alternative but to offer them again. What possible contribution to the war can she possibly be making that you can justify having her fix up every decrepit building in England?"

"Calm yourself, Severus," said Dumbledore. "Allow Miss Larentia herself to explain to you what she has been doing."

Snape marched up to the marble statue and tore off one of the now-wilted flower garlands. "No need," he snarled. "I already know. But I can assure you all that her efforts will be as useful as this in the final battle!" He shook the tattered garland in his hand for emphasis, but his sleeve caught on another. Jerking his elbow free, he pulled the statue along with it, and it crashed to the ground. Fragments of the ancient marble flew across the uneven stone floor as Snape, Firenze and Albus watched, horrified. Lara covered her mouth with her hands, but her form faded almost instantly. Her shade floated across the room and merged with a cloud of marble dust until she was no more. As she passed him, Snape saw her face, with the same look of reproach that had haunted his dreams for decades.

"Good Merlin," he exhaled softly and looked around him, disbelievingly. Dumbledore just shook his head, and pursed his lips.

"Mars was the god of war and agriculture," Firenze said, cryptically. "You may yet have your chance to redeem yourself.


	10. Goodbye

Author's Note:

I'm sorry to inform you that I can no longer continue with this story. I had been having issues with the plot even before HBP was published, but now that it has been released, the revelations it contains have made this story so AU, that it isn't even interesting anymore for me to write my fanfiction version of events. Nearly every detail I had written or planned to write for this story has been made irrelevant or impossible. I apologise to my readers who have stuck with me so far, and offer my thanks for all your kind comments and reviews. Hopefully, I will be back with a different HP yarn with which to amuse you.


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